


Wash Away

by Laure Alexander (ladyoneill)



Series: The Alpha Series [37]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/Laure%20Alexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the rain falls, Spike muses over the path his life has taken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wash Away

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on July 8, 1999 and is the first, I think, written in first person present tense. It was written for a challenge but I didn't note down any of the requirements. Probably had something to do with rain. Set after "I Only Have Eyes For You" and before "Becoming".

And the rain came down in torrents. Perfect sheets of perfect misery. Watching them became a game. Standing and watching them wash everything away.

Everything except the empty feeling inside me.

I stand just inside the door to the garden, watching the rain fall in heavy sheets. It's dark, almost black for early morning, except for the streaks of lightning in the distance. Thunder booms and the house shakes for a moment, as the trees lash against the boarded up windows and the flowers get beaten into the mud.

I can feel the sun hidden away behind the dark storm clouds, but all it does is give me an unpleasant tingle. Buried in darkness, it cannot harm me.

I long to step outside, to feel the cold water pour over me, to let it beat ME into the mud.

But, I don't dare. I know that two floors above me, my goddess stands at the window, watching the rain fall. As long as there's a chance that the sun might peek out and burn her, she'll never dare go outside during the day.

But, I know she wants to, longs to. She loves the rain, both the gentle mists and the pounding torrents.

How many nights did we dance in the rain, tripping lightly over wet cobblestones, through muddy fields, on windy moors and warm beaches, laughing like children, carefree and wild?

She dances with him now.

I feel my face change, my demon leaping to the fore at the thought of her with him, my beautiful black rose and my most hated enemy.

Once my dearest friend, my sire, my lover.

Sorrow sweeps through me and I wonder...is it sorrow over the loss of her...or of him?

I had thought his return a miraculous thing. We would have such fun, run wild through this hateful town, make the streets flow with blood. It would be like the olden days. The three of us, the scourges of Europe, striking terror in the hearts of all who saw us.

Instead, he mocked me and stole her from me, not because he wanted her, but because I did.

What had I done to earn such contempt, such...disrespect? Although he was my sire, I had been nearly his equal. Was I no longer that in his eyes? Was it because the slayer had crippled me, weakened me, put me in that hateful wheelchair for months?

Maybe it's natural for our kind to mock and prey on the weak.

And I had been weak, unable to protect myself, unable to hunt and feed on my own. It was humiliating.

But, not as humiliating as willingly placing myself in his control, surrendering my body for a moment with my goddess.

Even that no longer occurs. When we moved to this monstrosity of a house, he stuck me in a bedroom as far from hers as possible, making it implicitly known that I had become boring and he no longer wanted me.

Which, was just fine with me. My lover of the nineteenth century had disappeared into an angry, driven demon who was not much fun to be around.

But, my exile from his bed found me banned from hers as well.

And...she didn't seem to care anymore.

One hundred years ago, we had shared our princess, protected her, and I had loved her for the both of us. For a hundred years, she was mine alone and I worshipped her, cared for her every need, and after her injuries in Prague a decade before, searched desperately for a cure.

He was the key to her cure and I've come to realize that it has bound them even closer than a sire and childe are normally bound. She loves him now. I can see it in her eyes.

Eyes that hold pity for me.

She misses me, too, misses me in her bed, in her arms.

But, not enough to go against her god. His will be done...

But, not for much longer, I silently promise myself. I can walk again and I'm growing stronger every day. Soon, I'll be back to full strength.

And I'll make him pay.

For stealing her, for mocking me, for making her love him, for making me hate him...In the end, it doesn't really matter.

He'll pay, even if I end up a pile of dust for breaking the one sacred commandment of our race.

I'll see him dust first.

And watch the rain come down in torrents, washing him away.

End


End file.
